A/N: Thank you reviewers and readers! I hope you all liked the last chapter, and like this one, too. I've decided it's too easy to make an "I love you!" "Oh! I love you, too!" chapter, so we'll see how this goes...

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and now the Photo DVD (Josh is the coolest)


After he'd given her his word, Christine had closed her eyes with something like relief. She'd nodded her head, her hand had detached itself and she'd moved towards her room. With a sudden movement, he'd stepped forward, and taken it in hand. Although her eyes had met his in tired confusion, he'd remained impassive.

"I'll help you to bed. You seem very tired." Such a stupid excuse, he knew, but he'd wanted to touch her suddenly. Some soft fluttering made itself known when she'd nodded and walked down the hall with him, and grew when she looked up to him to say goodnight. Unable to control himself, Erik hurried to his room to hide the sound of his heartbeat from her.


She called out to me.

Erik had made a realization at that, and it frightened him. He knew now why he'd done things for her- why he'd observed her, played for her, taught her, bought her that damned rose. He now knew why he couldn't just leave her alone. I could have let her go, he realized, I knew she wouldn't really tell. I knew she wasn't still sure of what I was. He sat at his desk and looked at the warped reflection in the little silver hand-mirror that sat atop it. It seemed to be smirking at him, a terrible expression from Erik's grotesque twin.

"But she knows now," His sinister side replied. "She knows you can kill- you've nearly tried to murder her a few times now. Do you know why? It's because Christine is just another pretty thing that it hurts you to look at. Your room is filled with her pretty things, but they just weren't enough. You want this painful reminder."

"Shut up," Erik growled.

"But still you look. And not just look, Erik. You covet."

"I don't-"

"Why did you lock her up, then? You want her all to yourself- "

"Shut up!"

"-but you do," his other half pressed on. "Why were you so eager to bring her home with you? To keep from killing her? A poor excuse, not befitting us at all." Erik could only dumbly shake his head. "You know it's true. You see her as-"

"Stop..." He slammed his fist on the desk, and his eyes began to focus. The face in the mirror was his own again, but he could still hear his dark self whisper.

"-a pretty girl who'll belong only to you...one to be with you, like your mother never was." The dark laugh infuriated him even as it dissipated, but Erik could not deny it. The gaping hole that existed inside him wanted to be filled with Christine. The hand he'd held hers in raised itself to his lips, and Erik kissed the palm in a shuddering motion. It was painful, to know what his entire being wanted and how impossible a desire it was.


"I see our guest has departed," The Persian detective grunted as he removed his dress shirt. His wife slid behind him and helped him change. "Erik can never seem to force a 'thank you' from his perfect throat, can he?"

"Did you notice something, Nadir?" Antoinette asked her husband as she dropped the dirty clothes in the hamper. She dimmed the light and slipped under the covers again quietly. Nadir laid next to her, taking her hand with a gentle tug.

"The fact that he never explained why he needed to sleep over bothered me. Even from Erik, it's odd behavior." He smiled at his wife. "Why do you ask, Antoinette?"

"I don't know. He asked for a rose. I suppose I found it odd." She gave a half-smile to her thoughts. I offered the arrangement I'd bought, but he just wanted one...and the black silk ribbon they'd come in. She looked at him with something like hope in her eyes. I wonder, what use does a man have for a rose and a ribbon?

They were quiet in their room. Well, I don't understand, Nadir thought to himself, has he opened himself up to you, Antoinette? He expected some sort of relief to wash over him as well, but he knew Erik. Although the boy might have begun to see the beauty in a rose, the detective wondered if that was enough to hope for the existence of a man's soul somewhere inside. He dropped the subject as he heard Antoinette's soft breathing become regular in sleep, and instead he too slept, and dreamt of Persia and of a time when monsters existed only in stories for amusement.


When Christine woke up to smell Erik's cooking, and she rushed out to the kitchen only to see him hovering over the stove, there was a gratefulness that slipped quietly into her. She assumed her place, moving past him to pull out the place settings. Sitting quietly once she'd finished, Christine watched him as if nothing had happened to change their routine. But something did happen, she thought to herself, I'm sure of it. Now, Christine was determined not to be afraid of him. He'd promised, after all, not to scare her anymore. And, most importantly, she wanted to believe that he would try. Even as she felt his eyes watching her as she ate, she looked up to smile at him with some confidence.

"Did you practice while I was gone?" His eyes did not betray him. They were ordinary, a little tired, but not the eyes of the previous night.

"... I- I wasn't in the mood." She wondered at him as he calmly sipped his tea. Why he asked that, she could not say. She had expected him to ignore anything that had to do with that night.

"You're the student, Christine, of an exquisite muse, but you shouldn't assume it moves at your whim." His mouth was set in a small frown. "You move at music's call. If you forget that, you'll lose all of the discipline I'm trying to teach you." He picked up the plates and began to clear the mess.

She watched him with something like awe and embarrassment. Gently she looked away. "I didn't think of it like that." His scolding words, though beautiful, hurt her a bit. "Honestly, though, I wasn't myself yesterday. I couldn't have practiced like that ..."

Were you distraught, Christine? Did I worry you? Erik shook his head, clearing his mind of his foolish thoughts and rejecting her excuse. "Even a moment truly devoted to music takes all other thoughts away."

"How?" The wonder of what he was saying made her want to feel it. He walked out of the kitchen and past her, to his piano. He played a few notes, nothing special, but as the sound lingered in the air it seemed that Erik had become possessed. His eyes closed, he seemed to let the ringing sound flow into him. He took a moment to absorb even after Christine could no longer hear the sound, then more notes were played. In this way, she observed, he was composing. His eyes remained closed and his face tilted up and...is he smiling? His lips had taken a serene turn up at the corners and although it was not a true smile, he looked so at peace to her. She moved to sit at the floor, looking up to him as he played on.

It was all improvised and new to him, but it was music. Erik could hear what he wanted to play inside him, demanding to break free. And he obeyed. His fingers knew the keys, and his foot the pedals. All he needed was the inspiration to find the song in all of it...

A sigh broke his concentration, and he looked down to see her watching him intently. Clearly he'd impressed her when Erik had only meant to show her the way.

"How can you...how can you play like that?" There was some shaky quality to her voice, the after-effect of his magic. She'd never heard such music, and had certainly never seen the veil lifted from Erik's face like that. It had been ethereal, and gone the instant he'd stopped.

He watched her childlike wonder, and could not find the words to explain. Instead he motioned her to sit. "You should practice your piano, Christine." With a newfound energy she nodded and sat. He watched her a moment, how she wanted to mimic what he'd done. It was funny to him, how hard she was concentrating on finding the keys. Her brows knit together and her playing was unsure. But at least she was trying. And that hopeful smile of hers seemed to resonate through the notes that were melodic. A rush of keys hit at the same time, however, ended both of those. She rested her hands over the keys and sighed heavily.

"Here," Erik had suddenly come up behind her, and rested his hands atop hers. Christine blushed, unsure of what he was doing. She opened her eyes, but he shook his head at her. "Close your eyes."

At his instruction she nervously closed her eyes and for a moment they were one in that insecure silence. Then, they played. It was soft, the pressure of his fingertips as he instructed her which notes to play, and although it was new and shaky the tune became more stabile the longer they played. She did not have any desire to name the tune, even though it was so familiar. Erik had chosen to play Claire du Line, but she couldn't recognize that. All she recognized was the sound, and the warmth of another body so close to her.

He watched her, guiding her with his own hands. It was a sin, the meeting of their flesh, but he reasoned it away. I'm only instructing. Helping my protege. However, the rose of her cheeks as she felt the sound distracted him so. Her lips parted, only a little, and he could hear her breath escape through the music.

"Erik." With her one word he'd stumbled. His hands moved a few centimeters from hers and she felt cool air hit them. Her eyes remained closed, hands set and waiting for him. "Erik?" He held back only a second longer. She...wants me to take her hands.

They resumed their playing, and Erik never heard what she'd wanted to say. That was all right, he decided, because she'd have plenty of time to say it. All the time in the world, in fact. For a moment, he wished he'd had the strength to walk away from her that night in the alley all those months ago. She would have been far better off. She would still have her freedom, at the very least. But you're here now, Erik watched her smile widen unabashedly, and I want you. There was something predatory in that thought, but he could not help it. He felt himself slip into the music as well, and his small smile returned once again.

Close your eyes...


A/N: Readers, possessive Erik, the mixture of love and jealousy, has taken center stage here. How will Christine deal with the man he's becoming? Read and find out!

By the way, I hope you enjoyed and will leave a review.